Breath
by Traxits
Summary: Jeremy felt vulnerable, and all he could think of was that Damon could hurt him any moment, could squeeze a little too hard, push him a little too far, and it wouldn't even matter.


**Title**: Breath  
**Author**: Traxits  
**Fandom**: The Vampire Diaries (TV series).  
**Characters/pairing**: Damon Salvatore/Jeremy Gilbert, established relationship.  
**Rating**: Mature.  
**Content Notes**: Breathplay. _Spoilers_; season 2, episode 6.  
**Word Count**: 958 words.  
**Teaser**: Jeremy felt vulnerable, and all he could think of was that Damon could _hurt_ him any moment, could squeeze a little too hard, push him a little too far, and it wouldn't even matter.

**[[ … One-Shot … ]]**

Jeremy didn't know when it had become a thing, exactly. It seemed like it was becoming more and more common, that much he was sure of, but he couldn't remember the precise moment when he realized that he was encouraging it, that he was provoking just about every alpha male in his life into wrapping their hand around his throat.

It was Damon's fault. Jeremy could assure himself of that much, at least. Damon had been one of the first to do it regularly, to push him against the wall, to sink his fingers into Jeremy's skin and control his breathing, only letting him take a sharp gasp of air when _Damon_ decided he could.

Then Tyler had done it, just the once, but it had been almost as good. The high from it would have been better had the dumb girl Tyler had over not scared them both so badly. It was a serious black mark on his enjoyment card, and he was horrified at himself for it. Given everything that happened that day, the last thing Jeremy should have been concerned about was his own damn high.

But it was better than the drugs, better than sitting in his room sketching or doing homework for classes that he was likely to fail anyway.

Damon noticed after the incident with Mason, after he had pinned Jeremy against the couch, after he'd squeezed almost too hard and the only thing Jeremy could do was close his eyes and ride the whole thing out. Jeremy had escaped the room, but he hadn't gone far; his legs wouldn't carry him any more than just outside. He fell to the floor, sitting with his back against the wall, his head tilted up toward the ceiling as he struggled to catch his breath, to let the pain slide into the dull ache that he almost welcomed.

Then Damon had stormed out of the room, wiping his hand on some piece of fabric, and he hauled Jeremy back up to his feet by gripping handfuls of Jeremy's shirt. He peered into Jeremy's face, his eyes sharp and narrowed, looking for something specific. Jeremy could only wonder vaguely what he saw exactly, but he didn't have the strength to argue. All of that nerve had been spent in a feeble attempt to save Mason Lockwood's life.

He stumbled after Damon down the hall, and when Damon shoved him into a bedroom, Jeremy fell face-first into the bed and didn't care. He could feel that pleasant drifting sensation washing over him, could feel his light-headedness peaking as much as it would without any further pressure to his throat. But Damon wasn't about to let him just lay there; instead, he rolled Jeremy over, fitted his hand against Jeremy's throat. Jeremy wondered if Damon could feel his pulse against that hand, or if Damon was listening to it.

He groaned and made a small attempt to push Damon away, realizing that it was probably going to be the discussion again, the one where the responsible adult told him not to get involved in things that were so dangerous. Damon's growl made him still though, and he looked up at the vampire, blinking rapidly in an attempt to focus his eyes. Damon applied only a small amount of pressure to his throat, and Jeremy shivered. It wasn't enough to actually stop his breathing, but it was enough to warn, to _suggest_ that Damon could do whatever he damn well pleased. Jeremy must have made some kind of noise, because then Damon had that smirk over his face, that knowing little grin that drove everyone insane.

"Who'd have thought," he murmured, leaning down to put his mouth a little closer to Jeremy's ear, "that Elena's good little brother would be this way?"

Jeremy flushed, but he didn't struggle, didn't even try to argue. The saddest fact about the whole situation was that this was the most contact with anyone that Jeremy could even remember having since Anna. And Anna hadn't been willing to indulge him in this. Or had he not asked her? He couldn't remember.

Then Damon squeezed a little more, just enough to make Jeremy gasp, to make the ache flare up again. Jeremy whimpered- he was aware of the noise that time- and Damon's eyes flashed with something. Jeremy was pretty sure that had he not been so light-headed, the expression on Damon's face would have scared him. At the very least, it would have given him pause. It didn't though, not with his world spinning and the promise still resting against his skin. He felt vulnerable, and all he could think of was that Damon could _hurt_ him any moment, could squeeze a little too hard, push him a little too far, and it wouldn't even matter.

With the ring still on, Damon could _kill_ him as many times as he wanted with no consequences.

Jeremy wondered what it would feel like, and then Damon squeezed again. Jeremy didn't think about anything else after that. He just rode the high, coughing and dragging air back into his lungs each chance he got. By the time Damon finally let him go, the bruises were massive, and Jeremy reached up to touch them, his fingertips shaking. Nothing had ever pushed him quite the way that had, flat on his back on Damon's bed, at Damon's mercy. He wasn't entirely sure anything ever would compete with that.

Then the smell of blood filled his nose and he jerked back, glancing up at the wrist Damon was holding out to him.

"Drink it," he said lowly, and Jeremy hesitated for only a moment before he did as told.

Elena would have freaked if she'd seen the marks.


End file.
